The far side of insanity
by neverlife
Summary: A collection of one shots. Most are short and strange. #1 a witch creates a spell that reveals boggarts' true forms. Involving boggarts, puppets, feet, Azkaban, shackles, and much more.
1. The boggart boy

The darkness trambled around him as he sat in quiet cotemplation. They were moving his home. Bringing his darkness to someplace new. He wondered if they were going to use him for fear. Would they set him upon their enemies? Would they use him to train warriors? Perhaps they were just going to use him to teach students.

"...research.....spell.....true...." He could hear one of the one trasporting him say through the walls of his home. He dismissed the thoughts in his head and simply sat there enjoying the blissfull darkness. The unjudging purity of the dark. He felt a thunk of wood upon the floor. Then there was a lance of light breaking into the dark. He felt the light forcing him to take a shape. He felt it repelling him, demanding he take a form.

Blindly he searched for something to be. Then he felt it. He found that someone in the light labled him. He could feel flesh form were there was none. To his astonishment he found that if felt familiar. Relishing the thought of being himself for even a little while he pushed open the door and stepped into the light. He could feel other fears demanding him to take their form but he focused his attetion on the one before him.

He heard her shakily murmur a spell and it's colored light bathed him. Something felt different about the fles beneath his essence. He felt her fear spike up. "Why!" She cried. "It should have worked. No.." She trailed off and began to shiver. Another stepped between him and the shivering woman. To his astonishment he didn't feel this man's fear force him to take it's shape.

The man looked at him in puzzlement before he gaped astonishedly. Jane, our iformation showed that boggarts are the pieces of the souls that demetors leave behind because they can't eat it. It's possible that this really is him. Your spell worked Jane.

The boggart gaped at the man. "I am _not..._" He began to say but he voice trailed off as the spell's light faded. Now he could feel the man's fear force him into the new shape. Lances of pain shot through him as the man cast _ridikulus_ and laughed at him. He retreated quickly back into the dark.

His material form dissolved as soon as he was hidden in the peaceful, accepting, darkness. Harry Potter's essence smiled as he let his mid drift into oblivion.

[That's the end of this story]

Basically when a soul is devoured by a demetor it poops out the parts it can't devour. These pieces of the soul are not whole enough to be ghosts. The light wants to make them have a form. The thing is that at one point a person opened a closet or something where one of these essencess were hiding fully expecting the thing they feared most to come bursting out. The light then decided to force the fragments to take the form of whatever is the person or animal's greatest fear.

Harry was going to say "I am not boggart 'poo'."


	2. The strings

**Strings**

In the corner of the Dursley's living room is a puppet. 

The letters flopped onto the carpet of number four Privet Drive. The small figure waiting on the stairs stood and shuffled through the envelopes. The boy paused in the predawn light, in his hands was a letter. That wasn't unusual in his daily habit of searching the mail, what was unusual was three things; There was no stamp; The paper was heavy; and perhaps most importantly, it was addressed to him.

The boy retreated to read the letter in the living room where the light was brighter. He smiled softly when he was done. That explained a lot. He was a wizard! The boy awkwardly wrote a reply with a pen on the back of the letter.

Professor McGonigal,

I must decline your invitation because I am physically unable to attending.

Thank you.

He grinned, it was sloppy handwriting but it got the point across. He climbed out the Kitchen window and gave the owl his reply. It eyed him but flew off non-the-less. He wondered what it would've been like if he'd gone. The boy went back inside and returned to his usual post in the living room, but not after he concealed the envelope behind a picture of his cousin.

It never hurts to have a souvenir.

Three blocks away the owl flew over a plaque in a playground.

**I memory of Harry Potter**

**1980-1986**

Below it was a short paragraph waring kids about running into the road or else they might be hit by a car and die like Harry.

The possessed marionette realized he left the window open and floated over to close it while his souvenir lay behind the picture frame, proclaiming it was to:

**Harry Potter**

**Third Shelf From the Top of the Bookshelf in the Corner of the Living room.**

**#4 Privet Drive**

**Little Whinding**

**Surrey.**


End file.
